It Just Is
by blinnn
Summary: Burt gives an important toast. Kurt/Blaine; Burt's perspective.


Burt rose to his feet, slowly. His knees trembling, his heart thumping, and his eyes stinging.

All eyes were on him in a matter of seconds, the silence almost unbearable as he tried to find the ability to speak.

He closed his eyes tightly, willing himself to say something, and when he opened them, the room was suddenly burred by his tears. He cleared his throat.

"Sorry-" He muttered, "I don't-" He shook his head quickly, attempting to rid himself of the haze. A hand came to rub lightly at his back. _Carole_. He'd know that touch anywhere.

Taking a breath, he tried again. "Now, uh- you all know I'm a hard man to break. It's not every day I get emotional over stuff. But today's not just any day, is it?" He paused looking at the cards in his hand for guidance. The words all seemed so insignificant in that moment. They blended together and lost all their meaning. They were just words. Something he'd written because he _had_ to; so that he would be prepared.

But standing there, in that moment, he realized that he couldn't just recite some damn speech. Those words didn't carry any weight. He had to just say how he felt that _very_ moment. Something real, something palpable.

"Ah, well." He tossed the cards onto the table to his side. "For a long time, I only had one son. Kurt. And he was all I could ever ask for and more. Smart, honest, hard-working, and he had a wit like no other." Burt laughed as he heard others in the room chuckling as well.

"And then... eight years ago, I met Carole." He turned to face his wife, who smiled a watery, loving smile. "And I gained another son." A breath, "Two sons. Two kids. Two amazing young men who I could happily say were my family." His next breath was shaky, relishing in the memories of the silly fights between his boys; of the times they'd helped each other; of the countless nights he'd walked past Kurt's bedroom to find the two of them on the bed, mugs of warm milk in hand.

"And then Kurt met Blaine."

Murmurs and quiet noises erupted in an agreeable feeling of fondness. Burt took that moment to finally look to the table at the head of the room. He saw Kurt, eyes red and puffy, and Blaine, trying his hardest to keep up that winning smile and brave face. Their arms were tightly wound around each other, their fingers intertwined as they leaned against one another as if they would both fall over without the other's support.

"My first few encounters with that kid were -well- interesting to say the least." He laughed at the images; Blaine waking up in Kurt's bed; Blaine coming into the shop. Blaine hung his head in embarrassment.

"But I can say that from the very beginning, he has had nothing but Kurt's well-being in mind. He wanted Kurt to be happy, safe, successful..." He paused. "Loved."

Burt saw Blaine break at that. His lip trembled, and his eyebrows knitted together. He could see Blaine trying his hardest to keep from crying.

"And today... boy I feel like I won some sort of fatherly lottery or something 'cause now- now, I have _three_ sons. Three men who I am never going to stop being proud of. Three people who make me feel like I did something right and this is the universe's way of repaying me.

"I couldn't ask for a better family than the one that I got." His voice broke.

"But I tell ya, I wouldn't want to anyway."

He looked around the room, scanning the faces. Some he'd known for years, some he'd just met, some he didn't know at all.

"But this day ain't about me at all." He continued, "Today is about Kurt and Blaine. About their love, their happiness, _their_ family. Their _marriage_.

"Today is a celebration of the bond between these two men, who I have seen grow over the last eight years. I've been there through the fights -both silly and serious, I've seen both of them make tough decisions and deal with hard situations. I've seen them both go through _so much_ crap... and yet, the one thing that remained constant... was that look in their eyes."

Burt watched as Kurt and Blaine shared a glance, Kurt's cheeks reddening slightly.

"That look. Right there." Burt pointed out, "That one that speaks for itself. It doesn't need any words tied to it. It just is. _They just are_. They're Kurt and Blaine. And no matter what happens, no matter what the world may fling at them, they will always be there for each other, loving each other, aiding each other. No question. It just is."

Burt heard sniffling from various directions, and his chest felt heavy as he continued to watch his son and his son-in-law interact. They held each other closer, tighter. The tears streaming fairly freely down both of their cheeks. Blaine kisses the side of Kurt's head; it lands somewhere near his ear. Kurt is looking at his father.

He mouths, _Thank you_.

Burt nods once, lifting his glass and turning to face the rest of the room, "To Kurt and Blaine. The world better ready itself for them... because they've been ready since the day they met."

He winked and raised his glass further before bringing it to his lips, the applause starting around him, filling him with pride - not pride in himself, but pride in Kurt and Blaine. He realized that everyone else knew exactly what he had always known. That those two were meant for each other - and nothing in the world could stop them.

* * *

><p>He was swaying with Carole some time later, to <em>I Will Always Love You <em>by Whitney Houston, when the song faded and transitioned into one he'd heard many times before.

The familiar sound filled the air and Burt couldn't help but glance up to look around the room. He found it unnecessary, though, as he felt a warm hand cover his own on Carole's back.

"May I?" Kurt spoke softly, to his step-mother.

"Oh, honey." Carole spoke, tears springing to her eyes instantly. "Of course." She answered as Blaine took her away from Burt and started to dance with her.

"Ready, Dad?" Kurt smiled, extending his arm.

"Us Hummels are always ready." He said, slapping his hand into his sons in response.

"Don't have to tell me!" He laughed.

_Oh, yeah, I'll-_

The lyrics started, the upbeat tune was one that they had grown accustomed to over the years.

_Tell you something_

They spun around each other.

_I think you'll understand_

Their legs moved quickly to the beat, despite their obviously lack of real dancing ability.

_When I, say that something_

Everyone watched them, laughing, smiling, silently judging -all of the above- but neither of them noticed. They only cared about that moment. That dance.

_I wanna hold your hand_

The dance was fast and ridiculous and absolutely humiliating, but it was their song. It was their dance. In the years that had followed Burt's heart attack, they'd choreographed a routine to the song. It was of their very own, there was nothing like it.

Father and son, dancing ludicrously to the classic _Beatles_ song, without a care in the world, at the son's wedding.

No one questions it. There's no need. It just _is_.


End file.
